


Respite

by Nilmiel



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, Joe washes Nicky's hair after Merrick's lab, M/M, but both of them will be, neither of them is okay, recollections of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilmiel/pseuds/Nilmiel
Summary: By the time they’ve actually stepped under the water, a small amount of steam has actually begun to fill the bathroom, and Nicky stifles a groan of relief as the hot water sluices over his shoulders. Joe gives a low rumbling laugh in response, and reaches over Nicky’s shoulder for the 30 year old bottle of shampoo sitting on the small wire shelf. Nicky turns away from him quietly, offering him access to his hair.“No,” Joe gasps suddenly, fear tinting the edge of his voice. “No, please, face me, I can’t bear it.”Yet another "Joe washes Nicky's hair after Merrick's lab" fic, this time with some art.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 47
Kudos: 414





	Respite

Joe’s fingers are tightly wrapped around his. They’d arrived at the London safehouse with little trouble. A stark contrast to the rest of the past few days. Joe had emerged from the front seat and opened Nicky’s door for him, pulling him wordlessly from the car. He hasn’t let go since.

Nicky had let himself be led up the stairs into the small bathroom with a meager sized closet shower and rattling pipes, where now he stands with Joe, his eloquent Yusuf, at a loss for words. He moves to turn the water on in hope of coaxing some hot water from the showerhead, but Joe tightens his grip and tugs Nicolo towards him. They’re both coated in blood and grime and medical gunk and God knows what else, and really, what Nicolo desperately wants is to get in the shower and just be rid of it all. But Joe needs reassuring, and so of course, always, Nicky goes. 

At first Joe just thumbs shakily at the hem of his shirt with his free hand, but then the trembling settles and he begins tracing rough fingers over the bloodstains in the fabric. He lingers over the bullet hole Nicolo had stepped in front for Andy. “Thank you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting Nicolo for the first time since they had stepped into the bathroom. 

Nicky smiles at him in what he hopes is a gentle manner and doesn’t betray the heartbreak he’s feeling. Joe, in turn, scrunches his eyes closed and steps into him and presses his nose into the nape of his neck. He heaves in a deep, shuddering breath, finally dropping Nicky’s hand to wrap him into a full and tight embrace. Nicky can feel the rise and fall of Joe’s chest against his own as he brings his own arms around him, one hand tangling into the dark curly hair to pull loose a wayward shard of glass. “Sono qui,” Nicky tells him. “I am here with you.”

Joe hums in response. He brings one of his hands on Nicky’s back up to the base of his neck and hesitates before softly bringing careful fingers to his hairline. Nicky can feel it’s still tacky with blood and probably shards of bone and other unthinkable bits, and shivers just a bit in reply.

Joe makes a keening sound and withdraws from him, putting both hands on his elbows and bracing himself against him. “Please, habibi,” he whispers. “Please, let me make this right.”

Nicky huffs a small laugh of immeasurable fondness. “It’s what I was doing, caro mio, before you interrupted.” He backs up just barely out of Joe’s reach to turn the water on and set the shower to heating up. Joe leans into the space he left and stumbles forward, unwilling to lose contact. His fingers catch Nicky’s shirt, and so Nicky reaches down and helps him to lift the utterly destroyed garment over his head. He divests himself of the rest of his clothes quickly and quietly, and turns to help Joe do the same.

By the time they’ve actually stepped under the water, a small amount of steam has actually begun to fill the bathroom, and Nicky stifles a groan of relief as the hot water sluices over his shoulders. Joe gives a low rumbling laugh in response, and reaches over Nicky’s shoulder for the 30 year old bottle of shampoo sitting on the small wire shelf. Nicky turns away from him quietly, offering him access to his hair.

“No,” Joe gasps suddenly, fear tinting the edge of his voice. “No, please, face me, I can’t bear it.”

Nicky spins around immediately and cups a hand to Joe’s jaw. “Anything,” he whispers, his other arm reaching for Joe’s to mirror the grasp on his arm.

Joe takes a handful of shampoo and applies it slowly, softly, to the back of Nicky’s head and brings his forehead forward to rest against his. His dark eyes fall shut as he probes fingers to the roots, working and massaging away blood and grime and bone. Nicky feels him pass again and again over the back of his skull, feeling the bone intact and the skin smooth and healed. His breath comes in slow, even puffs on Nicky’s lips, and Nicky finds he can’t help but relax into Joe’s grip and let himself be held. 

Without warning, Joe’s fingers push into the exact spot Nicky had felt the exit wound begin to close as he gasped back to life. Nicky gasps out a breath, remembering suddenly the knee driven into his chest, the wind knocked from him, and he tastes gunmetal and lead on his tongue. Joe’s eyes fly open, looking him over with open concern and grief. Nicky’s heart is pounding in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the returning sensations. It had been easy, then, to drive the horror at what had been done to him deep down where he could ignore it. Andy had needed them. Adrenaline had carried him all the way through the lab and upstairs to the shower. But the feelings were flooding back: the sting of gas in his lungs, the hard tile floor pushing on his back, the hard weight bearing down on his chest, and the cruel, ungentle, uncaring hand fisted in his hair and the gun scraping his teeth—

“Nicolo, shh. It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.” Joe’s voice breaks through his thoughts, startling him back to the present. He’s cradling Nicky’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears Nicky hadn’t realized he let fall. He nods frantically, and takes a few grounding breaths through his nose, registering the smell of soap and the feel of steam in the air, the tenderness of Joe’s grip. But the taste. He can’t shake the metallic burning tang in his mouth, or the pressure of the gun on his palate. 

“He could have just put a bullet to my forehead,” He finds himself speaking in rapid-fire Italian, clinging to Joe’s arm to keep stable. “It would have been easier. Faster. He— chose—“ He swallows around the words. “He made it intimate. He didn’t just want me to die.”

Joe is growling, his eyes hard and angry. “He was a disgusting, cruel man,” he spits. “He deserved worse than the death I gave him. You didn’t deserve that, amore mio. I would kill him a thousand times to pay him back for what he did to you.”

“I can still taste it,” Nicky sobs.

Joe makes a pained sound that wrenches his chest.

“I can still feel the steel, taste the metal and—”

His words are cut off as Joe surges forward to kiss him, capturing his lips roughly with his own. Nicky welcomes him, his mouth falling open helplessly, eager to taste Joe’s tongue and wash the cloying sting of metal away. Joe obliges him, Joe never denies him anything, and he pushes his tongue against Nicky’s, delving between his teeth and caressing the roof of his mouth. And slowly, slowly, as Joe bites at his lips and soothes them with a quick lick of his tongue, as Joe tilts his head back for easier access to his mouth, Nicky lets the lingering memories move on. In this moment there’s only Joe, and Joe’s bruising lips and tender grip and hot mouth, sweet and warm and _home_. 

“There will be no mark of him left on you,” Joe growls between kisses. “No remnants, no phantoms.” He punctuates this with a bite to Nicky’s bottom lip, then worries at it with a gentle tongue. “Only me,” He sighs against Nicky’s lips.

Nicky nods, his breath evening out. “Only you,” he agrees. 

One of his hands has found its way to the back of his head and is working the shampoo and water through it again, and Nicky is vaguely aware of the water slowly running clearer, the blood receding down the drain. Joe is gripping his arm tightly and has moved from his mouth to trail gentle kisses up his cheek, over his eyelids, to his forehead. Nicky closes his eyes and falls forward to lean against him.

“Only you,” he repeats.

Eventually, he tugs gently at Joe to get him to switch places, so that he stands beneath the water, and Nicky can run his hands through his hair with water and lay tender kisses to each of the now-healed and markless old wounds where Joe had been stabbed and needled. Joe melts into his ministrations, and doesn’t once, even for a second, let his hand fall from the back of Nicky’s neck, where his thumb is rubbing soothing circles at the base of his skull.

They hold each other a long while after that, standing under the rapidly cooling water, just holding each other and trading soft kisses. Eventually, Joe reaches to shut the water off and leads Nicky quietly from the shower. He towels him off gently, ending with the towel rubbing gently at his hair. 

“I am yours, and you are mine,” Joe whispers into his ear as Nicky moves to pull him along to their waiting bedroom. “No one else will have any part of us.”

“Tell me again,” Nicky asks as they settle onto the bed, Joe’s arms curling around him and clutching him back firmly to his chest.

“You are mine,” Joe acquiesces. He kisses the back of his neck. “You are mine, and the only memories left on your skin, in your mouth, and in your heart, will be of me.”

And they sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I have read and loved and cried over every single other "Joe washes Nicky's hair" fic, so I drew this to cope with my feelings. Turns out drawing it wasn't enough, had to write it too. ❤️ Thank you to each writer who inspired this. I'm so delighted there are so many of you out there who love these two like I do.


End file.
